


if there’s a light at the end (we can make it)

by baekspuds



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Grim Reapers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-09 05:56:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15260892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baekspuds/pseuds/baekspuds
Summary: There are many reasons why Taeyong doesn’t question the forces operating behind his sudden death that evening.





	1. stars in my eyes

There are many reasons why Taeyong doesn’t question the forces operating behind his sudden death that evening. He’s surprised, yes, but not shocked––not unhappy. In his mind, the moment is short and painless, a speck of magic in the spiralling world around him. But Taeyong knows, perhaps better than anybody else, that death is rarely ever painless. There is a crash, a skid, and then a body hurtling unceremoniously through the air, painting the highway road crimson. And silence. An endless silence that stretches out to opposite ends of the universe, tying the final knot on yet another fallen angel.

The trouble is that Taeyong is no angel. He’s no devil either. It’s just his absence from the spectrum of good and evil altogether that makes him a violation of nature, a disaster, a boy fated to die from the second he fell.

At least that’s what he tells the tall, shadow of a person standing before him.

‘Self-pity,’ The shadow’s voice is smooth and velvety, as he reaches down to meet Taeyong. They’re standing in a field of lilies. The garden stretches out to all four sides, enveloping them in some sort of dewy haze. Taeyong’s body is floating slightly above the pink flowers, feet not quite in touch with the solidness of the ground beneath. ‘If I didn’t know you any better, I would’ve put it past you.’

Taeyong shrugs. It is a simple enough gesture––just two shoulders slumping in unison, but he knows what it really means. In this light, the shadow looks more like a young boy, roughly Taeyong’s age, maybe even a few years younger. His features sharpen, and all of a sudden Taeyong is seeing jet black hair, the slope of a nose, clear grey eyes that betray curiosity from the way they seem to look back at him, questioningly, like it’s strange that they should be here in this particular moment, having this conversation.

The boy smiles thinly, looking slightly displeased at the sight of Taeyong before him. ‘I’m Kim Doyoung.’

Taeyong hadn’t been expecting the Reaper to be a boy. In his head, he’d been picturing a slightly more dramatic version of Death, complete with a skeletal cape, golden scythe, and slits for eyes. He would have never believed the Reaper to be anything but old––yet here he was, standing (or what would have been standing if he wasn’t suspended three feet in the air) before a boy clad in ripped black jeans and a hoodie.

‘You’re staring.’ Doyoung comments lightly, raising an eyebrow at him.

Taeyong’s voice echoes indefinitely around them when he responds. ‘I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting you to look so…young.’

The Reaper seems to consider this for a moment, grey eyes appraising Taeyong curiously, running him up and down like he was a QR code on a package. ‘Well,’ He says finally, brushing away a stray petal from his shoulder. ‘They never specified anything when I applied for the job.’

‘Wait, you can apply to be a Reaper?’ Taeyong asks, and he sounds so surprised Doyoung lets out a small bark of laughter. Trying to shake away the embarrassment that follows, Taeyong continues. ‘Um…I’m sorry, feel free to send me into the fiery pits of hell.’

‘Look,’ Doyoung says softly, thumb brushing over his bottom lip as if he’s reaching some kind of final resolution. ‘I’m afraid there’s been some kind of misunderstanding. You aren’t on my list.’

‘What…does that mean?’ Taeyong stammers, and he’s suddenly dropping down to the floor, knees buckling under the weight of his own body. The field around them shifts, and they’re now sitting on the park bench outside Taeyong’s apartment. Everything around them suddenly looks familiar: the roads, the trees, the overflowing garbage can outside 7-11. There are no tell-tale puffs of air coming out of Doyoung’s mouth as they watch the snow settle in thin layers down the street. From this angle, Taeyong can see his roommates, Sicheng and Yuta sitting on the living room couch, arguing heatedly over something on television. Time seems to have been momentarily suspended because his stomach drops and Taeyong can feel the intensity of the Reaper boy’s eyes on him as they survey the scene in front of them.

‘It means,’ Doyoung says, tilting his head slightly so he can observe the other boy’s sharp features in the dim lighting of the parking lot. ‘That I cannot give you what you want.’

‘But…I died. I’m sure of it.’ Taeyong is shivering.

Doyoung frowns, pausing for too long before finally answering. ‘Someone must really believe in you then––enough to give you life, at least. Not many of us get a second chance, you know?’

‘What if I said I––‘

‘Even if you don’t want it.’ Doyoung adds, predicting Taeyong’s next words. There’s an uncomfortable knot in Taeyong’s throat that refuses to undo itself. He doesn’t realise he’s crying until a while later, when he feels the wetness on his cheeks, fingers reaching up to brush away hot tears from his eyes for the first time since last June.

In his dreams, he hears his sister’s voice again and again, and again.

The Reaper boy huddles in closer next to him, his spine crowding lower so he can lean in to whisper in Taeyong’s ear. ‘Is death really what you want, Lee Tae-yong? What if…I offerred you just a year?’

Taeyong looks up at Doyoung now. He’s run out of his own pain, and he’s glad his voice no longer trembles when he speaks. ‘I do this for a year, and that’s it? Its over?’

‘Yes,’ Doyoung smiles widely this time, his eyes crinkling into crescent moons as they watch the snow fall faster into the darkness of the night. ‘But there’s a condition.’

‘Of course.’ Taeyong says immediately like he’d been expecting this. He’s not an idiot.

‘You try your hardest this year.’

‘To do what?’

‘To find happiness, love…everything you’ve been keeping yourself from experiencing so far.’

‘Fuck,’ Taeyong mutters eloquently, hands sweeping carelessly through the length of his dark brown hair. ‘What’s in it for you?’

‘Does there have to be something in it for me?’

‘There always is.’

‘It’s only fair,’ Doyoung smiles wickedly, dimples peeking through the sides of his cheeks, before sliding across the bench over to where the light comes streaming in from a street lamp. ‘I find out why you’re here.’

Taeyong nods. 365 days of cooperation in return for the answer to an unsolved question. ‘Aren’t you going to make me sign a blood contract or something?’

‘No,’ Reaper boy laughs drily, and the sound travels under Taeyong’s skin, settling there until he’s finally obliged to let out a small smile of his own. ‘Not unless you want to.’ The air around them crackles with electricity as Taeyong looks death in the eye. Somewhere far away, in a different dimension, there is an empty tombstone with his name engraved on it.

 _How terrible it is to love something that Death can touch_


	2. is this love?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a certain edge to the way the Reaper looks at him now, like he’s something delicate and fragile, or easily broken.

_‘It matches your eyes, Yong. Just a little bit longer, I promise.’_

_‘It matches your eyes, Yong. Just a little bit––’_

_‘It matches your eyes––’_

_‘It...matches…’_

_‘NOONA!’_

When he wakes up, the back of sleepshirt is drenched in sweat. The shuddering comes a while later, wracking his body completely as the nightmare takes over. Taeyong isn’t sure if he’s awake at this point. The shadows around him shift menacingly to the sound of his thumping heart, twisting and turning, this way and that, until he’s a quivering mess of nerves and flesh.

There’s an ominous looking darkness near the foot of the ceiling, right where his window hangs open, and if he looks close enough he can see it floating down towards him.

‘You scared me.’ Taeyong mutters, fumbling around the bedside table for his glasses. The air outside is unforgivingly cold, almost too cold to be considered normal in September, and when the Reaper smiles at him grimly, settling down near the furnace, he can feel the gust of wind permeate his bones.

‘Bad dream?’ Doyoung asks, and Taeyong can feel the younger boy’s sharp gaze on him as he cracks open a fresh strip of sleeping pills.

‘The usual.’ Taeyong chases the tablet down with water blindly. There’s blood trickling down his thumb from where he chewed his nails a little too vigorously last night.

It’s been a few months since Taeyong struck a deal with the devil. Two months, five days and half an hour to be exact. Amongst many other things, he’d become accustomed to the constant presence of Doyoung in his life. Somewhere along the timeline of his waking hours and nightmares, they’d meet in darkness––always wary of the differences between them.

‘Can I ask you something?’

Taeyong nods, pulling a fresh T-shirt over his head.

‘What do you dream about?’

Sitting next to each other like this, in the faint light of the lamp above them, it isn’t as easy pretending like none of this mattered. There’s a certain edge to the way the Reaper looks at him now, like he’s something delicate and fragile, or easily broken.

Taeyong is nineteen when it happens. He’s just finished his first year of university. He’s always been talented, his sister would say proudly when they had guests over. She’d show them his artwork one piece at a time, always taking her time to explain the meaning behind each one. Taeyong liked listening to her talk. She was six years older than him but it was during moments like this, when she began chatting animatedly about everything, that he felt like the older one.

They’re driving home after spending the day in town with their aunt. Taeyong is listening to music on his phone. He’s not talking to his sister, not listening to her voice, not paying attention. He can’t remember details of the car crash anymore––they’re fuzzy and occupy space in a part of his brain he only has access to in dreams.

_‘It’s a miracle you lived, Taeyong.’ The doctor looks at him sadly._

_**Someone out there must really like you.** _

Doyoung shuffles closer, his thigh seemingly brushing the corner of Taeyong’s knee. _I know_ , he says. _I’m sorry it had to be this way._ It’s strange hearing the Reaper’s voice in his head. There have been times when Taeyong would’ve hated to hear the sorry’s on people’s tongues, been dismissive of their grief because _how_ could it possibly compare to his own. It’s different now, he thinks. _It’s better._

When he finally falls asleep again, he doesn't dream. Taeyong suspects the Reaper's lulling presence by his side has something to do with it, but for now, he doesn't worry. (Death is by far the least of his concerns.) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this was short. I've been busy with work and just haven't had the time to write. Next update will be longer, I promise. xx

**Author's Note:**

> If you're reading this, I'm sorry. I needed an outlet for my overflowing affection. My feelings for dotae are an oil spill at this point––there isn’t a damn place in the ocean that won't catch fire if I drop a match. 
> 
> I'll try updating as fast as possible, but you can always come scream at me on twt (@baekspuds) xx


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